He is screaming with frustration,
throwing objects like fits,
trying to contain his shrills but they
break through in shrieks
so I hold him.
He grumbles and growls wanting me
to leave. I just rub his back.
Slow circles; with my other arm
wrapped around him
like he is still a child.
I remind him to breathe
and tell him to try again tomorrow
and he huffs
but I can feel him releasing his anger
relaxing.
The tension in his body dissipating
until he is ready for me to
let go.
He picks up broken pieces
from the floor
tries to put them back together
the best he can  
I leave him to do this.
He never questioned my fear of the dark
when I would sneak away at night,
he eagerly awaited to hear my stories
and would hug me
no matter how hard I pushed him
away.
This is a love that can withstand
fights for the mirror
battles over school.
He is ever changing,
becoming someone new everyday
but when I hold him
he is still five
and braver than I.
He is stronger and kinder.
When I was his age
he could not understand
why I would cry in the other room
and bite at the ankles of anyone
who dared to step too close.
But I understand him.
The anger that lingers beneath skin
always ready to consume
and dominate.
This household is like
a pack of matches  
once he ignites he is forgotten
because we all burn up and out
without listening to his pain.
I remember that feeling,
it never fully goes away.
It is not something we speak of
but something we feel
and when he needs me to hold him
I will never be too far.
He has my ears,
my arms,
and always
my heart.

Tell me why I see him, why I dream of him and wake up longing. Analyze why I can feel him in my unconscious and not cringe, why he doesn't provoke my paralysis or night terrors. That's why I'm here anyways, I need to be fixed. My brain must be broken, cracked down the middle like glass splinters that allow him to seep into my sleep like a lullaby. Get rid of him as I have done in my waking state. I no longer want to dream fondly of his mother or drive down the royal road in his car. Interpret why I take rest to the memories of us laughing and drink him like wine until claimed by sheets. That's your job. Hypnotize me, convince me he never existed, or to forget the way his face looks at least: remind me why he made me scream and cry when he never get his way or how empty I would feel when he talked about the things he loved and I was never one. Show me how to cope, teach me to control my unconscious so I can choose to not see him, so I can turn my back on him before he does me. Exterminate him from my mind, tell me I am crazy, prescribe me pills or send me away, shock me with as many bolts as it takes until the bruises on my leg stop reminding me of his hands, until I forget who he is awake and asleep, lobotomize me if you must because it hurts! It really ******* hurts. Tell me why I was given a heart if it was to be broken, a life if it was to be wasted, a body if it was to never be loved. But that's not your job. So please, just help me sleep.

He isn't much yet but he could be anything he wants, he's just a tennis ball waiting to be bounced into the world and caught in the arms of those who whisper coos to him though he can't hear. He could be anything. He could be a she and she could be into writing like me or forging paths or acting. It's too soon to tell but it's never too soon to imagine and when I saw the results I could see her, blue eyes, brown hair, beautiful. More beautiful than anything that's ever existed. In the dimples and the gangly limbs, I've never met it and I would do anything for it. For this baby. I want it to be safe and never worry about the bad things in the world I feel like I need to chase out the dark minded people to create space for all the good this baby will do, because she's capable of doing so much good. And so is he if that's what he chooses to be and that would be fine with me. I'd teach him the fragility of his heart and how he must handle those he desires with care, I'd teach him to not let anyone walk over him but to never directly hurt another person. I'd show him pictures of the adventures he missed out on and read him whatever book he wants how ever many times he wants to hear it, I'll teach him you are my sunshine, the wheels on the bus, and every backstreet boy song so he never feels behind. I'd help him grow and be his support until he can stand on his own but even then I would stay close by. This heart inside my chest has never been mine to own completely, it was meant to be shared and he can have it all because there's nothing I wouldn't do for him. For her. For it. For this baby. To say I'm scared is an understatement, but this love is undeniably existent flushing through my body like its electricity shivering through my veins, my heart has never pounded so hard, my eyes have never been so wet as when I knew for sure its here, but I've never felt more alive and strong and pure either. You're good, and you're loved, and I pray you never feel empty. You will forget but I will remind you that life is hard but you are blessed and everything will be okay. At the very least, in the worst of times I will always make sure you will be okay.